The little pumpkin and I were staring at each other. We were trying to settle on a face to carve for Halloween. I had all my monster stuff out and the squash had all these Hollywood gossip rags on the table.
“Make me pretty…or handsome. I want to look like George Clooney,” the little pumpkin said.
“Why would you want that? Wouldn’t you rather look frightening?” I asked.
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. Boris Karloff maybe or Martha Stewart?”
“Who’s they?”
“Well both are sort of Frankenstein-ish.”
“No, I want to be handsome.”
“But you’re a pumpkin.”
“So? Are you saying I can’t be handsome because I’m just a runt pumpkin?”
“No, not at all. I’m saying that on Halloween it’s more fun to be scary. You can be George Clooney for Thanksgiving. Or Oscar Night.”
“No.”
This was going nowhere fast. Halloween was approaching and the little pumpkin and I had been going on like this for days. I thought it would be better to catch him after a nap when he’d be more open to suggestion but nothing was working. I’d happily carve a Clooney into the pumpkin but really, George Clooney? When did kids get so grown up?
Just then the little rabbit with the vegetable sword hopped on the table.
“Hoi. “Cha doin’?”
And just like that a mad scientist bolt struck me.
“C’mere, lil’ bunny guy.” I held up a picture of the dapper Carry Grant-esque George Clooney. What do you think of this?”
The little bunny looked, sniffed, blinked and said, “So?”
I looked at the pumpkin who said nothing. I turned back to the bunny and said, “OK, what do you think of…THIS!” and I whipped out a picture of Frankenstein’s monster reaching out of the page.
It was several minutes before either the pumpkin or I were able to hear normal tones again. The shriek was so loud and so shrill that the Formica in the table peeled up. The little rabbit launched into the air like an old NASA space rocket. Little bits of fur and chewed carrot were all over the table. He was lying on his side panting and muttering something incoherent.
“What. The Hell. Made you . Do that?” he asked.
“I want to be Frankenstein!” the little pumpkin said. And thus, it was written…
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